


you kiss on sidewalks (you fight then you talk)

by thevirtch



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, Crying, Death, Domestic Fluff, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreak, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sad, Strangers to Lovers, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Teenagers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24855679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevirtch/pseuds/thevirtch
Summary: One night he wakes, strange look on his face, pauses, then says, "You're my best friend."And you knew what it was: He is in love.
Relationships: Scott Moir & Tessa Virtue, Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue
Comments: 51
Kudos: 55





	1. Oreo McFlurries

**Author's Note:**

> hello! yes, i am back with a new fic (again). will i ever continue my uncompleted works? maybe someday. but for now, here’s my gift to you.

The first time she sees him, she’s seventeen and it’s the worst day of her life. 

All she hears are the words “surgery” and “physiotherapy”.

“It’s a rare autoimmune disease,” they tell her.

They called it Juvenile Dermatomyositis, or JDM for short. It doesn’t really bother her, until she starts explaining it to her friends at school. Tessa realises how much she hates it, the stupidly long name (because everyone always follows up with, “what does JDM stand for?”), coupled with the pitying looks she gets from the adults that make her want to crawl into a hole and stay there. 

She gets to miss school though, so she doesn’t really have to deal with them for long. The doctors said something about a keyhole surgery, and the first question she asks is, “will I be able to dance?”

Her mother stifles a cry, and her dad has to leave the room. 

“We aren’t sure, sweetheart,” a kind nurse finally says, and it’s enough to break her apart.

-

The first impression she has of him is that he is seriously ill. Of the three times she’s been to the hospital, he’s always been there. In fact, she thinks he’s been there a long time, because the nurses treat him like a regular and he knows all of them by name. And there are a lot of them.

But another thing that confuses Tessa is that he doesn’t seem to be sick. She knows looks can be deceiving, but he looks like any ordinary visitor, not a patient. _Maybe he has a sibling who’s sick?_ she thinks, and dedicates the next few appointments to making up imaginary scenarios about his background in her head.

She doesn’t quite know why he’s so interesting to her. Perhaps it’s the mystery of it all, how he is almost an enigma to her. She doesn’t even know his name, but everytime she glances at him, he seems to notice and fix his attention on her. Like clockwork. And everytime, he offers her a gentle smile, and winks as if to tell her everything’s going to be okay.

She also senses that he’s different. She couldn’t tell you why, exactly, but he’s so unlike anybody she’s ever known. All the boys at school are loud, rowdy, rambunctious, and frankly annoying. But Mystery Boy is the opposite of that. He laughs with the nurses, always talking to them, and if the word “gentleman” had a definition, he would be it.

His favourite colour is green, she knows this because he always picks the green lollipop from the nurse's counter. _Unless he likes apple-flavoured candy,_ she reasons, and stores this information in the back of her mind. For what, she doesn’t know.

One Saturday morning, a week before her scheduled surgery, she finally learns his name as the nurse calls him into the doctor’s office. 

“Scott! You’re up, sweetie,” the nurse says fondly. He stands up, winking at Tessa before going into the examination room. 

Scott. She likes the sound of the name, or maybe it’s because it belongs to him. She doesn’t know, but what she _does_ know is that she would like to get to know Scott. 

When the day of her surgery arrives, she’s crying. It’s not like she didn’t know this was going to happen, but the possibility of never being able to dance again didn’t feel quite so real until now. She’s spent the past few weeks ignoring the fact that it was looming over her, choosing to live her last few days of freedom in a blissful state.

Now, she’s openly sobbing in the waiting room, and her mother tells her that she’s going to the restroom, but she knows that her mother is equally, if not more, devastated about the surgery. She feels someone slide in the seat next to her, and she looks up.

“Hey,” he says softly, looking at her with concerned brown eyes. Scott.

“Hi, I’m sorry,” she replies, quickly wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She should feel embarrassed, except that he doesn’t appear to be judging her, and instead offers her a smile.

He shakes his head, smiling at her.

“Don’t be sorry, this place is pretty depressing, huh? I’m Scott, by the way,” he says, offering her a tissue.

“Thank you. I’m Tessa, but everyone calls me Tess,” she replies.

“Hi, Tess. So, what’s wrong, if you don’t mind me asking,” he says, 

“Nothing’s wrong, I guess. It’s just that my surgery is today, and I’m a dancer-” she stops, her throat suddenly closing shut. 

“Oh, Tess. I’m so sorry. Do you want a hug?” He asks, and she doesn’t know why she trusts him, but she nods and he gently takes her in his arms, cradling her softly against his chest.

It feels like home, and he smells of something from her childhood that she can’t quite place, but it feels so right, she doesn't want to let go.

He traces circles on her back with his thumb, comforting her, and she buries her face in the crook of his neck. She thinks that time stops for a moment.

“Thank you,” she says after a while.

“Anytime. Also, that would be ten dollars, plus a cleaning fee for all the tears you got on my shirt,” he says lightheartedly.

And then suddenly she’s laughing, really laughing, not the half-hearted laughter she gives whenever her parents are around to make them feel better about her shitty life. She doesn’t quite know when the tears stopped, but she thinks it has something to do with him.

She goes into surgery feeling considerably better about everything. After the surgery, she’s wheeled into a room that has a glass window looking into the waiting room, where he’s sitting. Her gaze lingers on him, perhaps for far too long, because Linda the kind nurse notices and smiles at her.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” She asks Tessa.

Tessa blushes, embarrassed that she’s been caught watching him.

“I guess,” she says inconsequentially, trying to appear as if she hadn’t really paid attention, which is a lie, because he’s the only thing that’s been on her mind since she first saw him, if she was being honest.

“Oh, young love,” Linda says, which makes Tessa blush an even deeper shade of red.

Her mother comes into the room just then, holding a cup of coffee and thanking Linda before turning her attention to her daughter.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” She asks, and Tessa tries her best to give the biggest smile she can muster. 

“I’m fine, my bones ache, though,” she adds, and she sees her mother’s face fall.

“I know, honey. The doctor said that it’s normal, just a few days here and then we can bring you home,” her mother assures her, but somehow it feels as if she’s saying it more for her own sake than Tessa’s.

Just then, there’s a knock on the door, and Linda sticks her head in again.

“Sorry to disturb you, but it looks like you have a visitor,” she says, and winks at Tessa before moving aside to reveal Scott.

He seems slightly shy, which is so uncharacteristic of the Scott she knows, but he charms her mother nonetheless and he gives Tessa an Oreo McFlurry he bought from the cafeteria.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” her mother says, before getting up and leaving the room.

“Hi,” he says, almost shyly.

“Hey, Scott,” she responds, “thanks for this, by the way, you didn’t have to,” pointing to the ice cream.

“Hope it’d cheer you up. First surgeries suck,” he says, and she makes another mental note that he’d had more than one surgery.

“Yeah. I’m okay, though. Thanks for being there for me, earlier,” she says, and she looks down, suddenly becoming shy. She thinks she might have butterflies in her stomach from that memory.

“Anytime,” he says, and they’re silent for a while as she takes a bite of her ice cream, and she almost melts at the taste of it.

“This is my favourite, you know?” She says, taking another scoop.

“I know. I heard your dad promising you a McFlurry after your last appointment. I figured it was a safe bet,” he says, which stops her short. She’s been paying attention to him, but she’d never in a million years think that he’d possibly done the same with her.

“Yeah, it is,” she says, and she offers him a bite.

So they sit, her on the recovery bed, him on a stool next to her, sharing ice cream. Young love.


	2. Bleeding

She gets to know Scott. He tells her about his family and his past life. He tells her that he used to play the violin, and he promises to play something for her someday. He tells her about his osteosarcoma, how he had multiple surgeries followed by chemotherapy. How he lost a leg to cancer, but he’s so lucky that he’s alive. How he’s been in remission for a couple of months before she arrived. How he’s so happy she did.

She doesn’t quite know how it started, but everyday, she would make the trip to the cafeteria at 2 p.m. sharp, and he would be there, sitting at the table just at the corner, with a McFlurry ready for her.

When he sees her, he breaks out into a smile, and gets up to greet her. He would hold the chair out for her to sit, kissing her on the crown of her head before moving back to his own. Somehow he makes the depressing hospital trips worth it.

She tells him about her anxieties, and school, and disappointing her parents. She tells him how she’s probably never going to dance again, but she also tells him that she might start becoming an artist.

“That’s amazing, T.”

Oh, and another thing, he’s starting to call her T. She likes it, and it feels so natural that she can’t help but smile everytime he says it.

“I’m not really that good, though,” she admits, giving him a shrug.

“No, you’re perfect, you know that? You’re brilliant and I’m sure you’ll be amazing at it,” he says with such sincerity that she can’t help but believe him.

She’s so happy and carefree with Scott, and one day she brings him a watercolour picture she painted. It’s of a boy with a violin.

“It’s not much, but-” she starts, but he stops her with a hug.

“Tess, I love it,” he whispers, voice so tender against her ear.

“You do?” She asks, because she thinks that he might just be saying that because he’s nice.

“How could anyone not?” Is his genuine reply. She shrugs.

“Well, _I_ love it. That has to count for something, right?”

“I guess,” she says, unsure.

“You’re incredible, T. Have I told you that?”

She pretends to think for a while, before teasing, “hmmm, not sure. Maybe once or twice. Or a million times.”

This makes him laugh, and she notices how his eyes shine as he throws his head back, the small crinkles along the lines of his mouth.

His phone buzzes, and he checks it, his smile fading a little as he reads the message.

“Everything okay?” She asks, unsure of his reaction.

“Just fine, nothing to worry about,” he says, but after she gives him a questionable look, he explains, “it’s my girlfriend, Stella. She’s back in town.”

“Oh,” is all she can think to say.

It wasn’t as if Scott was hers, or anything like that. But this piece of information takes her by surprise, nonetheless, because he’d never once hinted that he was seeing anyone. She’d just assumed he was single.

He smiles at her, then glances at the clock. 

“Your mom will be here in ten minutes. I’ll walk you out?” He offers, and helps her shrug into her coat.

“Thanks,” she says, but somehow she feels worse.

 _Is this jealousy?_ she wonders, but above all the dominating feeling she has is hurt. She doesn’t know why she feels misled, but she does. 

It’s almost as if he can read her mind, but all he gives her is a questioning raise of his eyebrows. She shakes her head, says “it’s nothing,” before climbing into the waiting car. 

“Bye, T!” He says, and she waves back, closing the door as her mother pulls out of the parking lot.

The first thing she does when she gets home is to reschedule all her physiotherapy appointments. She doesn’t realise that she’s been subconsciously scheduling her appointments to be at the same time as his until this moment. This epiphany haunts her for weeks.

She tries her best to avoid him whenever she’s at the hospital. She doesn’t even truly know the reason why, but somehow she feels as if she’s crossed a boundary when it came to him. _But then again,_ she thinks, _it’s not your fault. He’d never given you any reason to believe he was with someone._

One day, Linda addresses the elephant in the room when she’s on the examination table. 

“I never asked. How’s things with you and Scott?” The kind nurse asks with concerned eyes. She’s definitely noticed a shift in the relationship between them.

Tessa avoids her eye contact, giving a noncommittal shrug and tells Linda that she hasn’t had the chance to see him around. She leaves out the part where she’s been actively avoiding his texts and calls, simply replying with a half-hearted “sorry, I was tired,” or completely ignoring him altogether. 

If he wasn't the best person she’d known, she would’ve cut him off completely. Unfortunately for her, he’s pretty damn near perfect. Sometimes she wishes he wasn’t so nice, because she can’t help but feel guilty, every text message she receives another straight arrow to her heart.

A week later, she finds out that she'd been accepted into a summer program at an art camp six months after she first met Scott (and five months after she’d found out about Stella), and she’s given the go-ahead by her physiotherapist for a month. The night before she leaves, her phone dings and it’s Scott. She hadn’t told him about art school, and she feels it’s the least she could do to just give him a heads up. She answers the call and brings her phone to her ear.

“Hi, Scott,” she says, testing the waters.

“Tess! It’s been so long, I’ve missed you,” he says, voice as warm as ever. Leave it up to Scott to make her feel even worse about ignoring him.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just life’s been a lot lately,” she lies, wincing at her words.

“I bet. Listen, are you free tomorrow? We could have an ice-cream date, just like the old times,” he asks.

“Scott, I-I would, but I’m going off to art camp,” she says, but all she hears is _date date date_.

“Wait, really? Virtch, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!” He says, and she can picture his excitement over the phone. She can’t help but smile.

“It is, isn’t it? I’ll be off for a month, and who knows what’ll happen once I come back,” she jokes.

“I better get your signature now, before you become famous and forget about me,” he teases back, then adds, “don’t miss me too much, okay?”

She rolls her eyes, but she still laughs and promises, “I won’t.”

Her muscles ache periodically - a side effect from JDM - but other than that she’s almost back to her old self. She comes back from art camp and goes straight to the hospital, where she sits in the waiting room, waiting for her appointment. She feels him before she sees him, leaning against the wall next to the water cooler, head hung in the glow of the vending machine. 

It takes her a moment for her to realise that he’s crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i originally wanted this chapter to be much longer than the first but decided to break it off here since it seemed fitting. i'm probably turning the next chapter into something a bit longer, thank you for sticking around!


	3. Coffee

“Scott?” 

She’s by his side before she even realises she’d moved, and he looks up when she says his name.

Quickly, he wipes his tears and tries to put on a smile, but she can see right through it.

“Tess, you’re back,” he says, voice breaking.

“Oh, Scott,” she says, and they wrap in each other’s embrace.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about me,” he assures her, but she doesn’t buy the lie.

“Scott, what happened?” She asks. She doesn’t know why all her rules about avoiding him come crumbling down, but she does know that she would hate herself if she weren’t there for her friend when he needed her.

He just looks at her and shakes his head. From this angle, she can see him more clearly, and she notices the bags under his eyes, his ruffled hair, the fact that he looks like he hadn’t had any sleep since the last time she saw him, which was half a year ago.

“You don’t have to tell me, I understand,” she says reassuringly.

“Can you just hold me, for a while?” He whispers, and so they stand, against the white walls of the waiting room, just holding each other tight in a warm embrace that lasts a lifetime.

Scott suggests a change in scenery ("The hospital is _so_ depressing." She agrees.), so they go to a nearby cafe to get coffee. It’s a change from their usual ice cream dates, but it feels right somehow. The whole way, Tessa can’t help but regret ignoring him for the past six months.

When they reach the place, he makes sure she’s seated comfortably, then goes and gets the coffee for both of them. When he brings it back to the table, he plants a kiss on the crown of her head, just like the old times.

“An almond milk cappuccino, for you,” he says, placing the steaming mug in front of her. 

“How did you know my order?” She asks, pleasantly surprised. Even her parents struggled to keep up with her constantly changing coffee preferences. As she takes a sip, she realises he put in the exact amount of sugar and milk. 

“Wild guess?” He says, but she doesn’t believe him.

“Okay, okay. I don’t know if you figured it out yet, but I may be obsessed with you,” he admits, taking her hand in his.

It feels so wrong, but so right at the same time.

She gives his hand a quick squeeze, then lets him go, covering up by picking her mug up to take a sip.

“Really?” She teases, and he looks at her with so much adoration in his eyes she can’t help but melt. _Pull it together,_ she tells herself, _he has a girlfriend._

“Thanks for this, by the way. You know, for being here,” he says, and she feels supremely guilty about ignoring him for the past six months. Why on earth would she do that?

“Scott, I-” she starts.

“It’s okay, Tess, you don’t have to-” he says, but she stops him.

“I do, it’s just,” she takes a deep breath, “I didn’t expect you to have a girlfriend. And I kind of felt like I crossed some type of invisible line, so I guess I panicked and avoided you for a while.”

Her confession seems to take him by surprise.

“Stella and I broke up,” he finally says after a moment of silence.

“Oh Scott, I’m so sorry,” she says, taking his hands in hers. _Is that why he’d been crying?_

“It’s okay, Tess. Not your fault, we just weren’t meant to be,” he says with a shrug, but he looks away.

“You’ll find someone,” she assures him.

He gives her the brightest smile ever.

“You know, T, you just might be my favourite person ever,” he admits. She thinks he might be her favourite person as well, and she tells him that. 

She thinks that her favourite thing about Scott is that he’s so genuine. None of it is engineered, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. He doesn’t play games, he doesn’t hold back, he doesn’t play hard to get. 

They talk for hours at the coffee shop.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she says finally, once she realises the owner giving them pointed looks after they'd reached their third hour at the cafe.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world, getting to take such a gorgeous girl out on a date.”

There, he’s said the word again. Date. 

She can’t stop the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“Why are you so nice to me?” She asks as he pulls her to his side and opens the door, the light afternoon breeze blowing in their faces.

He shrugs.

“Give yourself some credit, Virtch. You aren’t that bad, you know?” He says, bumping his hips into hers.

“Why did you talk to me, then, the first time?” She asks as they walk in the direction of the hospital. She’d missed her appointment, but she realises she doesn’t care.

“What do you mean?” He asks. They’re walking hand in hand on the sidewalk.

“Before the surgery, in the waiting room,” she explains, looking at him.

“Tess, you were crying. What was I supposed to do?” He asks, almost as if it was common sense.

And before she can stop herself, she leans in and kisses him. 

It takes them both by surprise, the kiss. It doesn’t last as long as they’d both hoped it would, because she pulls back and blushes, trying to read his expression. 

_Did he like it?_

His eyes are sparkling in the afternoon sun, and he has the softest look on his face. He looks like she just gave him a puppy for Christmas.

And then he’s kissing her back, his thumb caressing her cheek, the other hand on her waist.

The kiss is slow, and deep, and so _Scott_. It’s everything she likes about him: gentle, patient, adoring, sweet.

She never wants it to end.

When they finally reach the hospital, she feels like a whole new person. She’s in love, and she doesn’t even try to deny it. She starts apologising profusely to Linda, about how she lost track of time and was late, but Linda waves her off, smiling at her and Scott’s interlocking fingers. 

He stays in the waiting room the whole time she’s at her appointment.

After, they go to her place.

The sun is almost setting when they reach her house, and they spend a long time kissing in the car before finally breaking apart. He opens the door for her, and they kiss again, pressed up against the car door. She smiles against the kiss, and when they pull apart, she rests her cheek on his chest, taking in his scent, committing it to memory.

He runs his fingers through her hair, and he kisses the side of her head.

Her mother welcomes him with open arms when he enters the house, and invites him to stay for dinner. She suggests watching a movie, and he chooses Pride and Prejudice. Her heart melts once again when she realises he only chose it because it was her favourite.

They’re cuddled on the couch, her leaning against his chest, their hands interlocking beneath the blanket. Halfway through the movie, she realises he’s been staring at her.

“What?” She asks, suddenly extremely self conscious. Not that he’d given her any reason to be.

“Hmmm?” He asks, eyes still locked on her.

“You’re not watching the movie,” she accuses him.

“I am,” he protests, but his eyes still refuse to leave her.

“Scott.”

“You’re just so precious, I don't think I could ever get tired of looking at you. Don’t blame me,” he says, and she pretends to be annoyed at his cheesiness, but she can’t put up a facade for long, and breaks as she leans in closer to him.

“I’m not blaming you. It’s just a really good movie, I don't want you to miss it,” she says.

“Okay, I’ll watch it,” he acquiesces, giving her hand a firm squeeze, and turns his attention back to the screen.

A minute later, she catches him staring at her again. She doesn’t bother calling him out for it, but instead leans in and presses a chaste kiss on his lips.

When he leaves, she feels like a part of her is missing somehow. She says goodbye as he climbs into his car, and they don’t stop saying it back to each other for a good few minutes. After a while, though, he kisses her cheek, says “see you tomorrow,” then leaves, and she waits on her driveway until she can no longer see his car.

It's not until after he leaves that she realises he never told her why he was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think i have it in me to write angst, because i love them so much. oh and by the way, listen to "you are in love" by taylor swift for the ultimate reading experience :') enjoy! 
> 
> p/s: i might have to update the tags soon, since i have a vague idea of where this story is going to go now!


	4. Lollipops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realise i’m incapable of writing a long chapter. here’s my apologies in advance.

They start to hang out outside of their hospital appointments. She feels like she’s known him her entire life.

She meets his parents, and they treat her like their own. They have family dinner one night at his place, and she introduces him to hers.

She gives him a painting each time they meet. He always has something nice to say about it, and she always blushes.

On his end, he never fails to surprise her with something, be it a love letter, a box of chocolates, or a new book.

She loves him for it.

They watch the sunset on his roof, and they talk about their future. He tells her that he wants to have kids someday.

“How many?” She asks. Her hand is in his, and his lips are pressed against the back of her head.

“As many as possible,” he says matter-of-factly.

“You have to be realistic, Moir,” she says, rolling her eyes and then smiling.

“Okay, okay. Five?”

She shakes her head and laughs.

“I can’t imagine having to go through childbirth _five_ times,” she says.

“Okay, then. Three?” He questions, more hopefully.

“Still painfully unimaginable,” she says, but she seems to consider his plan.

“My future wife must really love me to do that, then,” he concludes.

“She does,” she says, and with that he takes her chin in his hand and she drowns in the warmth of their kiss.

Somehow, they end up at the beach. He has a bottle of champagne, and they drink out of red Solo cups. 

“I love you more than the sand on this beach,” he says after a while. She looks at him momentarily, biting back a laugh, but fails miserably.

“God, you’re _so_ cheesy,” she says, trying to catch her breath.

He pretends to be wounded by her reaction, which makes her laugh even harder.

“You love me,” he says, with a self satisfied smirk.

“Don’t humour yourself,” she says, rolling her eyes and then smiling at him.

“It’s the truth,” he says innocently, “I love you that much.”

“Okay,” she responds, her heart melting into gold.

“Okay? Seriously, Virtch? I basically proposed to the love of my life and that’s all she can say?” He exclaims, and her eyes widen, but no one else on the beach seems to pay them any mind.

“Scott, shhh. We’re in public,” she chides, resting her hand in his.

“Yes, I know. And I want everyone to know that TESSA VIRTUE IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE,” he yells with a grin on his face. She feels herself blushing all over, but he looks so genuinely happy that she can’t help but smile too.

Somehow, they end up in the water. 

Okay, well, Scott Moir might’ve carried a very adamant Tessa Virtue and dunked her into the water, despite her protests. She might've seemed mad about it, but she really isn't.

“Scott, how dare you?” She yells, catching her breath.

“Tess, shhh. We’re in public, remember?” He teases her, imitating her tone and then ducking as she splashes water at him.

“You’re impossible,” she says, and somehow, they’re entwined in each others’ arms.

“But you love me,” he says, leaning forward to kiss her.

“But I love you,” she agrees, accepting his kiss.

Somehow, they end up back on their blankets, a towel wrapped securely around them. An old woman comes up to them.

“Hello dears, excuse me, I just couldn’t help but tell you how lovely you two are together,” she says.

They look at each other before turning their attention back to her, at a momentary lost for words.

“Thank you,” Scott finally manages to say. The woman smiles at them affectionately.

“You know, when I was your age, I found a sweetheart too. I was just looking at the two of you, and it reminded me of that time. So thank you,” she says, and all three of them have tears in their eyes.

“That’s, that’s incredible,” Tessa tells the woman, who smiles at her.

“It is. Love like that is special, you know? Don’t let go of it for silly reasons,” she says, and with a small nod, the woman turns away and walks back to her own blanket.

“Woah,” Scott says, finding Tessa’s eyes.

“That’s one way to put it. You ever wonder where her sweetheart is?” Tessa asks, fitting herself in the crook of his neck.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s better if we don’t, you know? Leave it open ended. That way we can come up with our own happy ending,” he muses, rubbing circles around her thumb.

“What’s the happy ending, then?” She asks.

“Well, the girl and the guy fall in love, if they weren’t already in love. And the girl becomes an artist, like the best one ever. And she paints for the guy, who plays the violin. And he plays for her, and it’s all very romantic. They have three kids, and their kids will be the best kids ever. And then they fight and they kiss and they cry and they hate each other, sometimes. But it all works out in the end.”

“Very poetic, Moir,” she says, after a while.

“I know, I should write a book or something,” he jokes.

“So what happens in the end?” She asks.

“What do you mean?” He questions.

“You said it all works out in the end. What’s the end?” She clarifies, looking back into his deep brown eyes.

“I think it’s your turn, Tess. I’ve told you the first half, your turn to fill in the blanks.”

She waits for a moment, deep in thought.

“Well, they have three kids, three good kids, and they live in a house where there’s a garden and it’s small but not too small, just cozy I guess. Oh! And they get married,” and she nudges him with her elbow, “God, Scott, how could you leave that part out?” 

“Sorry, T. My bad,” he says, “Go on.”

“Well they get married and everyone’s happy for them, because they made it, but marriage is just the beginning for the girl and the guy. They are so in love, just like us. And like, I know this is idealistic or whatever, but I wish they would stay in love forever, like, as in love as they were when they fell in love. Until the end. That’s the dream, right?” She finishes.

“Absolutely. If that's your wish, then it's what happens. They stay forever in love, well, until one of them eventually,” Scott makes a cutting motion across his throat, “bites it, then that’s the end I guess.”

“That’s so encouraging, thanks, Scott,” Tessa says dryly.

“Okay, okay I was kidding. But they love each other till the end. And maybe they die together because they’re just _that_ in love.” He says, earning a laugh from her.

“Who dies first?” She asks. He seems taken aback by this question.

“I don’t know, maybe they don’t die. Like, they’re immortal, you know?” He suggests.

“Well, my bet is the girl. I don’t want to live without you,” she says.

“Don’t say that, Tess,” he says, tone suddenly serious.

“It’s the truth,” she says, albeit uneasily.

“Tess, look at me,” he says, and tilts her chin up to him.

“If I die,” and then he emphasises the “if” when she starts protesting, “ _If_ I die, T. You’ll find someone who loves you, okay?”

“I don’t think I can love anyone the way I love you. You’ve ruined all other men for me, Scott Moir,” she says, but she nods.

“I know, I’m like, _the shit_. But promise me you won’t spend the rest of your life guilty or miserable for loving again? You deserve to be happy,” he says, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Okay, okay. Please can we stop talking about this now? I don’t like talking about these things,” she pleads, and he nods.

Somehow, they end up going to his place. 

“Have you ever-”

She shakes her head, slightly embarrassed for a moment.

“Tess, if you don’t want to we don’t have to,” he says. She kisses him again, long and deep and desperate.

“I want to, Scott. I want you, please,” she whispers against his lips.

“Okay, just tell me if it hurts. I don’t want to hurt you, okay?”

“Okay.”

He lets her take his shirt off first, unbuttoning it slowly. The anticipation is killing both of them.

When he’s undressed, she pulls him into a deep kiss and he guides her to the bed. Their hands are everywhere.

His hands trace the skin under her dress, and he hesitates before she nods her consent, then slowly pulls it over her head. 

“You’re perfect, T,” he manages to whisper against her collarbone.

“So are you,” she says. His breath hitches as she runs her hand across his abs.

They kiss for a while, tasting each other, his hand splayed on her hip bone, hers on his beating heart.

He checks in on her, makes sure she’s comfortable. When he sinks into her, her eyes melt, like the morning sun. 

They move slowly, testing the waters. It’s unchartered territory, but it somehow feels so right, like they were built to be together.

He does all the things she likes, and when they climax, it’s blissful, and they drown in their love for one another, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

When she wakes, he’s watching her. She feels like she could look in those deep, brown eyes forever.

“Hey love, you’re awake,” he says, moving to kiss her on the forehead.

“How long have you been watching me?” She asks, tilting his chin so that his lips meet hers.

“A while,” he says against her lips.

All of a sudden, she starts laughing.

“What?” He asks gently. His legs are intertwined with hers.

“I don’t even know what your favourite colour is,” she says, laughing as they bask in the afterglow.

“Why do I feel like that’s not true?” He says, fingers mindlessly caressing her shoulder.

“Is it green?” She questions, remembering the apple-flavoured lollipops. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“Spot on. Just like your eyes,” he notes, and she blushes, burying her head in the crook of his neck, and kissing him there.

“I love you,” she says after a pause. She thinks she might cry with how much love she has for him.

“Oh, Tess. I love you too. So much.” His lips capture hers, and he tastes like home.

He gently caresses her cheek, touching his forehead to hers. They stay like that for a while.


	5. Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello dear reader! thank you for staying for this mess of a fic, honestly i don’t know what i did to deserve your readership. i guess by now, you’d have (hopefully) fallen in love with the characters as much as i have.
> 
> and here’s where i feel it’s my moral responsibility to tell you that it gets pretty dark from here. this was never intended to have a happily ever after ending from the moment it was conceptualised, and maybe it was because i was in a dark place myself, so i channeled all my energy (and angst) into this fic. so, spoiler alert: this doesn’t have a romanticised ending. life imitates art imitates life, and while the previous four chapters were filled with my idealised versions of a perfect relationship, i owe it to myself to have some artistic integrity, and finish this fic the way i intended it to end. i feel so attached to all my readers in a way i cannot describe, only to say thank you for staying and spending time reading whatever i put out into the world.
> 
> that said, i make compromises, because all the comments have been so lovely and it makes me wish i could give all of you a hug! i may write an epilogue with an alternative ending. it may be published in the near future, i don’t know when though. it’s going to be the eighth chapter of this fic (yes, i’m planning for this to have 7 chapters because 7 is my favourite number yes i am shallow like that). i don’t know what it’s going to be about, and maybe it’ll never happen. but for now, if you’re staying, here’s the rest of the story, the way i’d intended to write it. enjoy :’)

She wakes up the next morning in his bed, to find him looking at her with the softest brown eyes. 

“Hey,” he whispers, running a hand through her hair.

“Hey,” she responds, eyes closing at his touch. She snuggles in closer to his chest, falling back asleep.

“Tess, hey, you need to get up,” he laughs, as she shakes her head in protest.

“I’ll make breakfast, okay?” He says, but he’s so warm and the bed is probably the best thing she’s ever slept in and the last thing she wants is for him to leave.

“Just five more minutes,” she begs, wrapping her arms around him and tucking her head in the crook of his neck. She hopes it’s enough to keep him from leaving.

He kisses her forehead, and attempts to dislodge himself from her grip, eventually giving in and pulling the blanket up to cover both of them.

Half an hour later, Scott carries her to the bathroom, tells her to “get ready” with the promise of breakfast when she’s done. She wants to kiss him again, and she does, before he reminds her that there’s plenty of time later.

When she’s done, she puts on his T-shirt and walks out to find him in the kitchen, but pauses when she hears him on the phone with someone. 

“I know, I know.”

He sounds agitated. From the corner of her eye, she can see him running his fingers through his already tousled hair.

“Yes, I did.”

He sighs as the person on the other side responds. She doesn't know if she should announce her presence, but decides against it. She feels a little guilty.

“She’s everything to me, mom. I love her,” he says.

Her heart flutters at his words.

“No, I haven’t,” he pauses, then, “I can’t lose her.”

Tessa knows she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but she can’t help it.

“I will.” He says in response to an unknown question.

“Okay, love you. Bye mom.” He hangs up.

She waits a beat before walking into the kitchen, and he’s flushed red. He never was good at hiding his emotions.

“Hey,” she says lightly.

“Hi,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Everything okay?” She asks.

He considers her question for a moment, and then nods.

“Yeah, nothing to worry about,” he says.

“Okay,” she says, and even though she doesn’t quite believe him, she doesn’t want to push the topic since he’s clearly uncomfortable. _And anyway_ , she reasons, _if it was important he’d have told me_.

But then, a disturbing thought surfaces in her mind.

“Why were you crying, the other day?”

“What do you mean?” He says, eyebrows furrowed.

“At the hospital.” It seemed like a lifetime ago.

He stays silent.

“You remember, right? You took me for ice cream afterwards,” she explains, searching for any sign of recognition in his eyes, but he just stares blankly back.

“Scott,” she says again, but her tone is soft and she reaches out to him. He holds her close to his chest, and strokes her hair.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’m here for you, always,” she whispers, and she can feel him nodding. His body relaxes, and it’s only then that she realises how tense he’d been.

“Hey, let’s forget about it, okay?” She says, because she can feel him getting closed off, something she hadn’t anticipated. She’d always thought he was an open book.

“Thanks, T,” he whispers, and hands her the plate of waffles he’d just made.

She feels uneasy because as far as she's concerned, Scott had always been open with her throughout their entire relationship. But now, he's deliberately avoiding the topic in question, which makes her blood run cold.

“Mom asked if you wanted to come for dinner tonight, by the way,” he says, snapping her out of her reverie as he takes a sip of his own coffee.

“Sure? Weren’t we going anyways?” She replies, a little confused.

“Yeah, but she wanted to formally invite you, because it’s going to be a party,” he says.

“Okay. What’s the occasion?” 

“Promise not to yell at me?” He asks guiltily, and she immediately raises her eyebrows.

“No promises,” she says cheekily, taking a bite out of her waffles and letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

“I’m kind of turning nineteen?” He says, even though it sounds more like a question.

“Wait, it’s your birthday?”

He avoids her eyes, a sheepish grin creeping to his face.

“Scott! Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gotten you something!” She shoves him, and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

“I didn’t want to make it a big deal. Besides, you’re the best present I could’ve asked for,” he unabashedly says, shrugging.

“You’re disgustingly cheesy, you know that, right?”

“But you love me,” he says, and leans in for a kiss, which she returns.

After an eventful morning (that consisted of a lot of kissing and touching), they head to his parents’ house for the celebration.

For the entire car ride, she just can’t shake off the feeling that he’s hiding something from her, intentionally, ever since that morning. She wants to pry, but doesn’t know how.

She looks over at him, and there are unshed tears in his eyes. He feels her gaze, and blinks a few times.

“What is it?” She asks, concerned etching onto her face.

“I just never thought I’d make it to nineteen,” he offers as an explanation.

“That’s so depressing, Scott,” she says, seriously. There’s a pause before they break out into laughter.

“The truth is often depressing, Tess,” he says, mocking her tone.

“Since when did you become so wise?” She teases.

“What are you talking about, I’ve always been the wise one.” He takes her hand with the one that isn’t on the steering wheel and kisses her knuckles.

“Sure, if you say so. Can we go back to talking about kids, like that day at the beach, please? All this talk is getting me sad.”

He agrees, and they spend the night talking about their future, something so tangible yet out of reach in some way. 

After the party, which wasn’t really a _party_ given that it was just him, his parents, and Tessa, they head back to her place.

“I didn’t get you anything, _because you didn’t tell me it was your birthday_ ,” she says accusingly as she opens the front door, “but I have something to show you.”

She leads him to her studio, a small room adorned with the strokes of her brushes. The whole room is plastered with her works. His eyes immediately land on a painting of a ballerina dancing under the moonlight. To her right, there’s a boy playing the violin. It’s them.

“Do you miss it?” He asks, after studying the painting for what seemed like an eternity.

“Dancing?” She questions.

“Yeah,” he says.

She nods. She feels tears that threaten to fall, and she tries to hold them back. She doesn’t really know why she’s so sad, she thought she’d come to terms with it. But seeing it makes her realise what could’ve been. What was so unfairly taken from her.

“Oh, Tess. Don’t cry, I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, taking her in his arms.

She’s quiet for a moment, her fingers playing with his.

“You used to play the violin, right?” She asks finally, changing the subject.

“I did,” he says, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“Were you good at it?”

“Something like that,” he says.

“You’re being humble, aren’t you?” She asks, seeing through his humility. He blushes.

When he doesn’t respond, she pushes further, “tell me about it, please?”

“Okay. But let’s go for a walk,” he suggests in a quiet voice.

He takes her hand and they walk out of the house, not in any particular direction, but just along the sidewalk. When they reach the crossing, he takes a huge breath before starting.

“When I was young, like maybe about three, my parents brought me to this concert. And I remember being so captivated by the violinists, and I decided that’s what I was going to do,” he says, and she gives his hand a squeeze, encouraging him to go on.

“So that’s what I did. And I loved it, T. So much. It was what I lived for, honestly.”

He takes another breath before continuing.

“But then-” he chokes, looking at the ground.

“You got sick,” she finishes, putting her arm around him.

“Yep. Got cancer, and I was in the hospital for a good part of my childhood. But I always had the violin, you know? Even when things got bleak, I always had it.”

He kicks a stray pebble on the sidewalk and carries on.

“Anyways, when I was at the hospital, I met this girl. Her name was Emily. And she was super sick too. Even sicker than I was, actually.”

Tessa feels as if all the air had been sucked from her.

“And she was incredible. I remember playing one day, in my room, and she knocked on my door because she’d heard me play. And we became friends.”

He pauses, and looks at her, trying to figure out her expression.

“I’d play for her, when she got out of treatments, which was a lot. And then she got worse. Really fast. And it was like watching your best friend die in front of you,” he sucks in a breath of air, “it was the worst feeling ever. And there was nothing I could do to help her.”

“Scott, I’m so sorry,” she says, but he just shakes his head.

“And I tried, I thought that by playing to her I could somehow will her back to being healthy again. But she just got worse, and I got better. And one day she-”

A stray tear falls down his cheek. His teeth are gritted, and he turns away, not wanting her to see him cry.

It’s then that she realises they’re at his place. 

“Scott, I’m sorry,” she says, pulling him into a hug.

“It hurt so bad, Tess. Like, it was the absolute worst kind of pain,” he admits.

He takes a moment to collect himself. 

“I haven’t told anyone that story before,” he says after a while.

She pulls him closer and says, “thank you.”

“I wouldn’t put anyone through that kind of pain,” he continues, and she whispers, “I know.”

They walk into his house, and he helps her out of her coat.

“They asked me to play at her funeral, but I just couldn’t. It was too much,” he says inconsequentially. 

“She must’ve been amazing, Scott,” Tessa finally responds, taking his hand in hers.

“You reminded me of her, you know? The day we first met,” he says, as her eyes fall on the violin case. It looks untouched for quite some time, a layer of dust having settled on it.

“Oh,” is all she can say.

“I haven’t played since the day she died,” he confesses, fingertips tracing the case of the dusty instrument.

“Will you play for me?”

“I’m not ready, yet. But someday I will, I promise,” he says, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Later, she’ll look back at that day as The Last Good Day, before everything fell apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few notes:  
> 1\. wow, this fic is just really depressing. and we’re just getting started. buckle in?  
> 2\. i may have cried once or twice while writing it. i can’t help it, i’m an emotional person.  
> 3\. what’s love got to do with it is an exquisite program, go watch it. it might have to do with why i was crying so much.  
> 4\. so is umbrellas. i can’t believe i took a break from writing and went to watch umbrellas and i came back sobbing. but here we are.  
> 5\. it’s good to cry sometimes.


End file.
